I have borne another misery into the world.--
Meyer Lanich moves, putting away the trousers he has patched.--O Lord,
why must I sew so many hours in order to reap my pain? Why must I work
so long, heap the hard wither of so many hours upon my child who can not
sleep till I do, in order that all of us may be unhappy?
* * * * *
The clang and the door open. The mother of the boy.
"Oh, here you are! Excuse me, friends. I was worrying over
Herbert.--Well, how goes it?"
She smiled and stepped into the room: saw them all.
"All well, Mrs. Rabinowich," said Meyer. "We are so glad when your
Herbert comes to play with Florchen."
Mrs. Rabinowich turns the love of her face upon the children who do not
attend her. A grey long face, bitterly pock-marked, in a glow of love.
"Look what your Herbert brought her," Meyer sews and smiles. "A toy. He
shouldn't, now. Such a thing costs money."
Mrs. Rabinowich puts an anxious finger to her lips.
"Don't," she whispers. "If he wants to, he should. It is lovely that he
wants to. There's money enough for such lovely wants.--Well, darling.
Won't you come home to bed?"
Herbert does not attend.
His mother sighed--a sigh of great appeasement and of content.--This is
my son! She turned to where Esther sat with brooding eyes.
Pages:
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227